The Adventure of the Engineer's Granddaughter
by SayuriTsukiko
Summary: Moriarty murders the owner of a large engineering company and he seems to have been searching for something. The trail leads to the engineer's granddaughter. But what isn't she telling them about her grandfather's work and why does she seem so familiar?


**Ok, so this is the first 'serious' fanfiction I've ever written. I'm a little worried about it...I think this first Chapter is ok...but I'm not sure because this is the first time I've ever written something that isn't a parody, (well not in fanfiction anyway, my own stories yes...) So any advise or helpful critiquing would be much appreciated. This is also the longest chapter I've ever written for this site before.**

**Also, to anyone who has read 'The Detective and the Thief', this is the story I was refering to when I completed that story and will at some point include Irene Adler (and it will be Holmes/Irene, so anyone reading this hoping for slash at some point is going to be disappointed.)**

**Oh also set after the second film...which isn't out yet, so I'm not going to reference anything specific...I'm just assuming from the trailer that all three of them (Holmes, Watson and Mary) are in danger...so yeah.**

**Also I don't own ACD's characters...the only characters I own are the orginal ones of my own that will appear soon...**

* * *

><p>There was a definite urgency in the way the boy ran. Running is usually an urgent looking activity anyway, but this seemed to be extra urgent. This might have been the importance of the message he had to deliver…Or (and it was more likely) it was because the Inspector who had asked him to deliver the message had promised that if he managed to deliver the message to the address of 221b Baker Street in under half an hour, he would pay him two more shillings extra on top of the two he'd get just for delivering it; and when you lived on the streets of London every shilling counted.<p>

After manoeuvring through the busy streets, the boy managed to find himself in Baker Street just over fifteen minutes after he had received the message from the Inspector. He found the house quickly and ran up the steps to bang on the door, which was opened by a very stern but kind looking woman who peered down at him like a hawk. Mrs Hudson.

"Yes? What do you want?" she said.

"I got a message for Mister 'Olmes from Inspector Lestrade, Madam."

She held out her hand and said, "Well, give it to me and I'll see that he gets it."

"No, 'fraid I can't do that. The Inspector said that I was to give it to 'im myself."

The boy looked so stubborn that Mrs Hudson had no choice but to let him into the house. "All right, come in and you can give it to him, but you mind you wipe your feet on the door mat before you do!"

"Yes ma'am."

The boy was then led up two flights of stairs to the second landing. Mrs Hudson paused at a certain door and held up a hand to the boy so that he stopped.

"Mr Holmes?" she called. "There's a message here for you from Inspector Lestrade, it sounds like it might be important."

The door suddenly opened and Sherlock Holmes stood in the door way, hands in his pockets, pipe sticking out of his mouth and an amused look on his face. He removed the pipe so that he could speak and looked from Mrs Hudson to the boy.

"What's he done now? He hasn't lost Clarkie has he? He's one of the only reasonably intelligent members of the force," Holmes looked at the boy and then added, "What's your name?"

"It's Charlie sir, Inspector Lestrade sen-"

"Yes of course he did, because obviously you're the messenger as there is no other reason for you to be here. It's not like Mrs Hudson would have the message, she's been here all day and unfortunately for me she's been making me painfully aware of that fact, _all day_," Holmes said irritably.

"I wouldn't be in such a bad mood if you hadn't set my kitchen on fire this morning!" snapped Mrs Hudson. "And the cost of the new cupboards and table will be added on top of your rent this month!"

Holmes ignored the landlady and turned to Charlie. "The message?"

"Oh yes! Sorry sir," said Charlie as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white envelope, handing it to the detective.

Holmes ripped open the envelope and began to read:

**Holmes, **

**There's been a murder in the village of Little Funnell in Lincolnshire. The victim in question is a Mr Edward Herrington, originally from Newcastle. The officer who arrived on the scene first examined the victim and believes that the man was killed by a single, short range shot to the head. There were powder burns on his eyebrows. Suspected possible involvement of Moriarty. Please meet me at Kings Cross station at Four o'clock. Doctor Watson also needed to take a look at the victim, there aren't many good doctors in the area and he's one of the best Scotland Yard knows.**

**Inspector Lestrade.**

"Hmm…I need to go see Watson," Holmes said thoughtfully.

"Don't you dare, he's only just got back from his honeymoon, which you _ruined_," Mrs Hudson cried.

"I did not ruin it; I merely made it more interesting for them."

"It was their honeymoon! They didn't need to be shot at to make it more interesting!"

Holmes waved her down dismissively. "The case may be completely dangerous and I may need assistance and besides, Lestrade has requested him personally. Charlie, please tell Inspector Lestrade that his message has been received and that I shall be accompanying him to Little Funnell at four."

"Yes sir!" The boy turned on his heel and shot down the stairs and out of the house so fast he was almost a blur.

Holmes reached for his coat. "Right, I'm off to see Watson."

"Mr Holmes, I really think-"

"I know what you think, _Nanny_. I shall be back later to pack a bag and then I shall be gone again."

And with that he had left the room, gone down the stairs, out of the front door and was gone.

* * *

><p>Dr John Watson collapsed in a heap in his favourite armchair in the living room at Cavendish Place. Despite the fact that he had no patients that afternoon, he had had a very busy morning. There had been three patients with the flu, one for a case of bad nerves, one regular patient who was a hypochondriac (he was convinced this time that he had consumption) and the elderly gentlemen who had come in with his cat and who Watson spent an hour with trying to convince that he was a Doctor, not a vet. The doctor turned his head at the sound of his wife entering the room. He reached up a hand, taking hers in his as she got closer and then kissed it.<p>

"Hello darling," he said with a sigh.

"Busy morning?" she replied with a sympathetic smile.

"You have no idea…"

"Tea?"

"Oh god yes please." Mary squeezed his hand and the left the room to see to it that a pot of tea was made.

The doorbell suddenly rang loudly and Watson groaned aloud. He was not in the mood for visitors. But he would have to put up with it; it was only polite after all. He listened as the maid opened the door and tried to see if he could hear who it was, but the living room door that lead to the front hall was closed and it was impossible to hear properly.

The living room door opened and the maid popped her head round the door. "Sir, Mr Holmes is here to see you."

Watson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Send him in, thank you Elizabeth."

The maid retreated with a nod of her head and a second later Holmes was in the room and sitting on the sofa opposite him.

"I see you've had a busy day old friend," Holmes said and then he added, "May I inquire as to why there was a cat in your surgery today?"

"How did you know that?" asked Watson, wearily rubbing his eyes.

"There's cat hair on you waistcoat. I believe it was a ginger tom?"

"It was female actually." Watson replied, rather smugly too.

"Yes…well, it is rather difficult to tell the gender of a cat through its fur…" Holmes muttered sourly.

At that moment Mary returned, followed by Elizabeth who was holding a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. Elizabeth put the tray down on the coffee table and left without a word.

"Hello Mr Holmes," said Mary.

"Ah Mary, you're looking well," Holmes replied cheerfully, although it was still a little forced, mostly because he was wary that Mary was still cross with him for 'ruining' her honeymoon.

"It's not often you visit. Social visit or business Mr Holmes?" inquired Mary cooly.

"Ah…I'm afraid it's business. A man has been murdered and Lestrade has requested our help. "

"Holmes, I can't help you with cases, Blackwood was supposed to be our last remember?" said Watson, he fixed Holmes with a stern glare and Holmes shifted a little awkwardly in his seat.

"Yes, I _do _remember, but Lestrade suspects that this particular case may have something to do with the notorious Professor Moriarty, you may be useful in a fight old boy. Also, Lestrade has requested that you come along." Holmes declared, brandishing the message from Lestrade at Watson with a flourish.

Watson took the message from Holmes and read it with a scowl. Then he sighed and handed the letter back.

"Well…I suppose I have to seeing as it is work for me anyway," Watson said in exasperation, he looked up at Mary, "I don't suppose we'll be gone very long, probably a day or two. It won't take Holmes long to figure out what's going on…"

He didn't particularly want to and he felt guilty for doing so, so soon after they'd returned from their honeymoon…and after all the trouble that had happened during it.

Mary sensed her husband's guilt and said firmly, "Go. You need to, don't feel bad about it. I knew this was going to happen anyway. You going off with Mr Holmes on cases. If it had bothered me I wouldn't have married you."

The smiled at each other.

"Right, well I suppose I'll see you at four then," said Holmes cheerfully. He stood up and made for the living room door.

"I suppose you will," replied Watson.

Holmes went through into the hall and before he left he shouted, "Oh and bring your old service gun as well as your walking stick, we may need it."

* * *

><p><strong>Just some notes:<strong>

**Little Funnell is a made up village in Lincolnshire-it will be based on a village my Nana lives in though (which is in Lincolnshire obviously) but with a few added things of my own...**


End file.
